


Small World

by Willa Shakespeare (AnonEhouse)



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Connected Scenes, M/M, Pre-Series, Pre-Way Back
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-11
Updated: 2013-05-11
Packaged: 2017-12-11 13:59:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/799512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonEhouse/pseuds/Willa%20Shakespeare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of meetings, linking people who will affect later events. </p><p>(The M/M doesn't involve sex, just establishes a couple which was never remotely hinted at in canon.) </p><p>This story will really only work properly for you if you've seen all the episodes since many of the characters are single-shots (sometimes literally) much later in the series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Small World

(If you are reading this on any PAY site this is a STOLEN WORK, the author has NOT Given Permission for it to be here. If you're paying to read it, you're being cheated too because you can read it on Archiveofourown for FREE.)

"Restal, you appear to be a determined recidivist."

Vila looked blank-faced and very small, standing between two guards in the prisoner's dock. "I don't think I could be, sir. I don't even know what those old religions were supposed to be about."

The judge frowned. "The Judgment Machine has ruled that the evidence against you is not sufficient _in this case_ , but we _will_ be keeping an eye on you, Restal." He waved his hand. "Case dismissed."

Vila continued to stare blankly, with his mouth hanging slightly open. The guard on Vila's left grasped his arm and pulled. Vila went with the guard, looking wide-eyed from side to side as he was guided through the corridors of the Justice building, and finally pushed out through the main doors.

"Wait a minute," Vila cried out in sudden realization, "what about my things? I had a genuine imitation gold necklace when I came in here!"

"Be glad you've still got a neck. Get out of here." The guard didn't raise his voice. 

Vila's shoulders slumped. "Yeah, yeah. All right, I'm going." He put his hands in his pockets and wandered off down the corridor, heading for the Delta district.

***

It was dark and crowded in the 'public house' where Vila finally stopped to rest his weary feet, so he had to peer around for several minutes before locating an empty seat by a rear table. One man was already sitting on the other side of the table, scowling and nursing what seemed to be a large ale, and a larger temper. He was a big, burly man, so it wasn't surprising he'd been left alone in his corner.

Vila muttered, loud enough to be overheard over the rumble of conversation "Well, I don't care. I've had a hard day, too." He walked up to the table boldly enough, but when the big man rose to his feet, Vila flinched.

"What do you want?" the big man asked.

"A drink and a place to sit," Vila replied, tensed to duck, just in case. Around them, the others were watching.

The big man suddenly laughed. "Why not. Girl," he shouted,"Bring my new friend an ale." He clapped Vila on the back, making him stagger, and then sat down.

Vila slid into the seat opposite, and looked at the big man, still feeling eyes watching. The serving girl brought Vila an ale and the big man tossed her a credit chip. She left and the atmosphere in the room eased back to normal.

"Well?"

"Give me a minute, can't you? I'm always dry when I've come out of there." Vila shuddered elaborately. "I think they turn up the dehumidifiers on purpose. They like to make you sweat, but they don't want to smell it." He gulped several large swallows before sighing, leaning back in his chair and grinning. "You were right. Make it look like an expensive piece of jewelry and you can easily smuggle a bomb in there. The hard part'll be making sure it doesn't walk out with one of the guards before you can set it off."

The big man said, "We have experts. They'll have an answer."

Vila shrugged. "Your business. Once I've been paid, I'm out of it." 

"Don't go yet. Too many people watching."

Vila gave the big man a look. "I wasn't born yesterday. Do you have a deck of cards?"

***

Blake watched, amused despite himself as his contact outrageously cheated him at cards, but somehow won exactly what he'd been promised for his service to the Cause. Not that he knew who he'd been working for. Their go-between had been careful to imply that it was a simple case of revenge, of paying back a debt for a loved one who hadn't emerged from the halls of 'Justice' intact.

The thief finally left, grinning, and Blake ordered another drink to give him time to clear the vicinity before Blake left for another meeting. He frowned down into his ale. Lately it seemed that was all he'd done- sit, and drink, and meet people. He brooded for a while, then left.

***

"Your friend's the one who knows how to build the device, then?" Blake asked quietly, leaning over yet another table-top scarred with the rings of countless drink glasses. This bar was higher-class, with Gammas and the occasional Beta talking and playing idle games, but just as dark. No one liked to be watched while they indulged in even minor and permissible sins.

"Yes, but you won't see him. You tell me what you want it to do, and he'll design and build it. Someone else will deliver it." She leaned forward and took Blake's hand, smiling seductively as he passed her the note containing the specifications for the bomb. She was fairly young, Blake thought, although it was difficult to tell in the dimness, blonde, and possibly blue-eyed. Her gamine haircut was at odds with the chill efficiency he sensed behind those shadowed eyes.

"Then we won't be meeting again. What a pity," Blake said, attempting to be gallant, although he wasn't sure why he bothered. This was no maiden awaiting her hero.

"Is it?" Suddenly she leaned forward and slapped him hard across the face. "How dare you!" she snapped and leapt to her feet, and fled the bar.

Blake put a hand up to his face, lost in admiration for her ability to play a part. "Another drink!" he called, loudly, as if daring anyone to remark on the scene.

***

In a fairly respectable Alpha flat the lighting was brighter and Anna's hair flashed as she turned abruptly to face the man sitting at a low table. "I want you to leave Earth." She had thought about it for a long time, and considered all the alternatives. All of them. He was her weak spot and eventually she would be attacked through him. Unless she did something first.

"What?" The man looked up from the device he was assembling. "Here, now, what's wrong?" He got up and went to her, concerned. "Why, you're trembling. Has that man done anything..."

Anna laughed and shook her head. "Oh, Avon's a pet. Really, he's no danger to me, Del. But you _are_. You keep skirting the edges of rebellion, and you'll be caught up with them one day."

Del frowned. "They are right, you know."

"What does that have to do with anything? They'll all be caught, and you'll be picked up with them. And you know what happens to relatives of resisters." She shuddered again. 

Del held her for a long moment. "I can't stop and I can't leave, just yet. Is your _friend_ as good with computers as he boasts?"

Anna's lips curved upward. "Avon never boasts. And yes, he is as good as you've heard."

"Then he can fix me a new identity, one that will never be traced to you."

Anna hesitated, then nodded. "Yes, that would be a good idea, for now, but I want you to leave the moment you can. I'd like to think that you were safe, somewhere out in the universe."

Del kissed her forehead. "All right, all right, I'll go see the boy-wonder." He opened a hidden compartment under the table, and slid the makings of the bomb into it. "I'll go see him now."

***

Avon opened his door. "Well, to what do I owe the pleasure of this unannounced visit?" 

Del Grant pushed in past Avon, then turned to face him. "My sister. She sent me."

"Ah." Avon turned his back on Grant. "Perhaps she wishes the men in her life to become good friends? Would you care for a drink?"

"No, I wouldn't. And I don't care to become your friend, _Kerr_."

Avon's shoulders stiffened visibly, then he turned to Grant, with a false smile. "Then what do you want, _Del_? I was on my way out, so I'd appreciate it if you got straight to the point."

"I want to protect Anna. If I get... well, I'm not always quite the prim and proper citizen you are. Anna shouldn't suffer if I make a mistake. She won't if I'm not Del Grant in the records."

Avon nodded, slowly. "Yes. I should have thought of that. Very well. It will take some time for me to arrange access to the proper systems, and a great deal more time to develop an alternate identity for you. It wouldn't do simply to change your name, or to erase you from the banks. Subtlety, that's the key." He glanced at his chronometer. "I've really got to go now. If you can come back tomorrow, I'll be off-shift from mid-afternoon and we can discuss the details."

"Maybe I have misjudged you," Grant said, staring directly into Avon's eyes.

"Oh, now, let's not waste a perfectly good prejudice," Avon said as he escorted Grant out and locked the door behind them.

***

Avon drew his arms in close against his sides. The place wasn't exactly dirty, but there was a sticky look about the walls, particularly near the lighting touch-pads. It smelled of hot grease and unfamiliar spices. He made his way to a table in a curtained alcove already occupied by a heavy-set man with a large bowl of something rubbery-looking covered in a reddish sauce that made it look as if it was still bleeding.

"Come in, come in, sit down, friend." 

Avon did, and glanced at the curtains.

"If you draw them, then the servers will just come up and listen. Besides, I have nothing to hide."

"All right, then Keiller, what do you want?"

"Not so loud! I may not have anything to hide, but we don't need to shout our business to the rooftops, do we?" He pushed a basket of breadsticks at Avon. "Eat something, you're attracting attention."

"This isn't a social call. Do you have something for me, or don't you?"

"You never have learned the art of relaxing, have you, my friend." Avon started to get up. "Oh, all right. Someone wants a bit of diddling done and is prepared to pay highly."

Avon looked up from the breadstick that he was suspiciously examining. "How highly?"

"Top credit, but it's got to be your best work. No traces, not even a sniff of it."

"Don't be insulting. Where, when, what and how much." Avon handed the breadstick to Keiller in exchange for a data disk. He glanced at the symbol on the disk, and his eyes widened. "This system is isolated. I'll need actual physical access."

"Try the pasta, you'll like it," Keiller replied, passing a bowl of the rubbery substance over to Avon. Under the bowl he slipped a packet of ID 'papers'. "They're first-rate. Get you right to the main console."

"Ah," Avon put the ID in his pocket along with the data disk. "What about the other technicians?"

"They're going to be very busy with a distraction, along about three minutes after you arrive. A very large, noisy distraction. You should have at least ten minutes to yourself. Time enough for a genius like yourself, eh?"

"I'll think about it." Avon stood, and stared down at Keiller. "Enjoy your meal." 

"All right, next time _you_ choose the restaurant!" Keiller said, fairly loudly, as Avon left.

***

"So, is it all set up?" Vila asked.

Keiller put his hands over his stomach. "Pretty much, I should think. My man's not cheap, but he's the best. Of course, you've got to handle him carefully."

Vila sighed. "Another stuck-up Alpha, that's all this revolution needs." He leaned over the table to try a three-corner rebound, which missed by a fraction of an inch. 

"I hope you're not including me," Keiller said, attempting to sound aggrieved. 

"Nah, you're just a crook with ambitions." Vila grinned. "Me, I just want a chance to be first at the loot for once, before my good friends forget what they owe me and my kind."

"How could we ever forget you?"

Vila took two steps back into the darkness outside the lighted game table. "Describe me."

"Um. Well, you're taller than me, but not really tall, your hair is sort of in between brown and blond..."

"In other words, I'm a nameless face in a crowd. I like it that way. It's safer." Vila laid his cue-stick down on the table. "Thanks for the game. You'll be contacted the usual way, next time we need something in your man's line."

***

Vila walked into the darkened room, sighed, and sat down on the bed to take off his shoes. The bed's occupant rolled over, sat up and yawned. "Sorry, I fell asleep."

"Yeah, it's been a long day for me, too. Push over." Vila toppled into bed, still half-dressed. "Mmm, that feels good," he muttered as his bed-partner began massaging his chest. "Wish I wasn't too tired for anything more fun," he said, reaching out to pull the other against himself.

"Never mind, Vila, there's always tomorrow."

Vila shut his eyes and snuggled against his lover. "That's what I like best about you, Bran. Your optimism."


End file.
